THE door between Ruth's office and the president's office was slightly ajar. She could hear the suppressed voices of Stover and another man. She caught a sentence that caused her to leave her desk and tiptoe to the door. She stood with her ear near the opening. Ruth had a high sense of honor. She would have been the last one to eavesdrop through idle curiosity. The sentence which she caught convinced her the conversation taking place on the other side of the door concerned her indirectly, if not directly, and she felt warranted in listening.
She listened with bated breath while the color left her cheeks. She opened and shut her hands nervously.
When the conversation ceased and Stover's caller left she sat down to her desk and wrote a note. She looked at her watch; it was almost quitting time. She stepped to the president's office. "Is there anything more tonight?"
"No, Ruth, nothing more tonight. You may go if you wish to."
She went back into her room, tore up the lengthy note that she had written and wrote a very brief one. After she had placed this in an envelope and addressed it, she put on her hat and went out on the street.
She had walked but a short way from the bank when she met a small boy. "Say, boy, will you deliver this note for me?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She gave him a dime and he hurried away on his errand.
Harold King had seen but little of Ruth in the last two weeks. He had been busy getting up a perspective and plans to submit to the mayor and commissioners. He had seen Ruth a couple of times lately in ice cream parlors with Golter. That afternoon Harold had submitted his drawing and plans. Now that he had submitted them he wondered if anything would come of it. The architect's fee would be fifteen thousand dollars for this city job. If he could just land that his financial embarrassment would be relieved and he would be sufficiently advertised to get other good jobs. He had been three years in Wilford Springs, and had barely made a living. There had been many expensive buildings erected since he came, but out-of-town architects had been employed. Sometimes he had been discouraged and felt a desire to seek a new location, but his friend, Charles Wilson, would always tell him at such times: "Stay with it and things will come your way; just keep a stiff upper lip. When you get a job, no matter how little it is, do your best and some day the big jobs will be running after you." Harold was inclined to question this philosophy, but nevertheless it encouraged him somewhat.
Ruth Babcock had had a large place in his thoughts since he had met her two years before. He admired her and was sure if he would allow himself to he would love her—but what right did he have to allow himself to fall in love with a girl when he couldn't properly provide for his own needs!
He had felt bitter pangs of jealousy when he had seen Ruth with Golter. He didn't blame her for accepting the attentions of someone who had an income sufficient to take her out in public and properly entertain her, one who had a right to entertain thoughts of love and matrimony—but he didn't like this man Golter and wished that she would not keep company with him. Golter was a snob and in no sense a man that appealed to men, but deep down in his heart Harold knew that he would be unhappy to see Ruth escorted by any man. If he wasn't so poverty stricken he wouldn't stand back for anyone. His best suit was hardly decent to appear in at social affairs. He would not, in his present condition, embarrass Ruth by asking her to accompany him any place, but maybe fortune would soon smile on him. If he landed the city job and the fifteen thousand dollars, things would be different. His reverie was interrupted by a small boy who entered the office and asked, "This Mr. King?"
"Yes."
"Here's a letter for you. A young lady sent it to you."
"Was she good looking?" asked Harold, smiling.
"You bet yer life. She's a peach."
"Well, I'm interested. What do I owe you?"
"How'd a dime be?"
"All right." Harold tossed him the coin.
As he was going out the door he stopped and looked back. "Say, mister, the girl had done give me one dime, but I thought you'd want to go fifty-fifty with her." He hurried down the stairway without waiting for a reply.
As Harold tore the letter open he thought, "That boy may land in the penitentiary, but his chances to escape the poor house are good. However, I am inclined to believe I would be willing to go fifty-fifty with Ruth in a life partnership, but the one great obstacle is I can't furnish my fifty."
The letter was brief but interesting:
Dear Mr. King:
I would like to have a talk with you. If it will not greatly inconvenience you I would be pleased to have you call at my home this evening.
Yours truly,
Ruth Babcock.
"There is nothing to do but to go, if I do have to wear the old suit," he thought. He tried to conjecture what it could be that she wanted to talk to him about. Maybe she had some suggestion to help him secure the city job. Her employer, Jim Stover, was regarded as the political boss of the town and whatever he said went with the city officials. He was quite sure Ruth was going to make a suggestion to help him to secure Stover's assistance. Wilson had already talked with Stover in his interest but had not secured a definite answer.
That evening Harold got out his best suit and brushed it thoroughly. It was badly worn. When he had dressed he viewed himself in the mirror. "Harold, old boy," he said to himself, "there is no mistaking the fact you are run-down, you look seedy. You need a new casing but will have to make out with the old one for awhile."
As Harold walked down the street to the car line he met Golter. Harold noticed his well groomed appearance. When they spoke, the supercilious smirk on Golter's face nettled Harold.
"Come in, Mr. King. Let me have your hat. Ruth ran over to a neighbor's. She said if you called before she returned to tell you that she would be back in a few minutes."
"How are you, Mr. Babcock? I believe you are looking better."
"If I could only get over having this pain in my head. Sometimes I do not have it for two or three days and then it will come back and I suffer terribly. I worry lots, Mr. King, because I can't remember my business affairs before I was hurt."
"It may come to you some time."
"I hope so. Not long ago in my dream I remembered the rest of the safe combination."
"Are you sure that was really your safe combination?"
"Yes, positive of it. I had remembered all but the last number before the dream."
"Did you remember anything else besides the combination?"
"Yes, I dreamed that I showed the combination to a man in whom I had confidence and that he stole the money."
"Whose money was in the safe, Mr. Babcock?"
"My money."
"Are you sure you had money?"
"Yes, I have always remembered that."
"You say you dreamed that you showed the combination to a man in whom you had confidence?"
"Yes, I trusted him. The dre............